


Cotton Candy Crush

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Flirting, amusement park au, everything's broken, including me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Iwaizumi's in charge of managing a shitty amusement park and Oikawa's soft like cotton candy.





	

Iwaizumi wasn’t much on philosophy, but in having to wake up at five a.m. for his new job he couldn’t help wondering if mornings were defined by the sun having risen above the horizon or if it was just some arbitrary hour where the shift happened. Regardless, he wasn’t much on mornings, either.

He made coffee to hopefully chase away the sleepy thoughts that, while making perfect sense now, he knew would be absolute nonsense later, and by the time he’d finished getting ready for the day, the sun was starting to rise.

He got to work around seven, an hour before opening, but he knew that his checklist wouldn’t even be half done before then, and it was hardly a question whether more items would appear on it as the day went on; the work of a manager is never done, especially when they’re in charge of a rundown amusement park that some jackass rushed to open.

If it wasn’t the cotton candy maker then it was the shooting gallery, if not the shooting gallery then the rollercoaster. You’d think the park had sat abandoned for years by how often things broke, and you’d be right, but some hotshot bought it in late winter, wanted it open in time for spring, and hired Iwaizumi to make it happen; of course, Iwaizumi could have refused the job, but being fresh out of college meant that he really couldn’t have.

Walking through the entrance, Iwaizumi raps his knuckles against the glass of the ticketbooth, barking, “Look alive, Kunimi!”

Kunimi doesn’t say anything in response, just glares at Iwaizumi as he passes and flips him off. But Iwaizumi is willing to forgive him; they’re all tired.

Making his way to his office, Iwaizumi only just manages to sit down at his desk when there’s a knock at his door. He sighs and then calls out, “Come in.”

“Knockity knock knock,” Hanamaki exclaims in place of a greeting, bouncing into the room as he throws the door open and it slams against the wall behind him, seemingly rattling the walls and causing Iwaizumi’s ‘hang in there’ poster - a gift from Hanamaki - to drop to the floor.

Iwaizumi doesn’t know how Hanamaki is so energetic in the mornings, but then again, he just about never sees him without at least one cup of coffee in his hand, or when things are going well.

Not in the mood to beat around the bush, Iwaizumi asks, “What’s broken?”

“Broken? Nothing’s broken. Why does something need to be broken for me to come see you?” Hanamaki chirps, and then continues before Iwaizumi can respond, “I brought you some coffee!”

Taking the warm cup from Hanamaki, Iwaizumi eyes him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he just stands there and rocks back and forth on his feet. It’s only after he takes a sip and sighs, this time in relief, that Hanamaki says, “The cotton candy machine’s broken.”

Setting the cup down on his desk, Iwaizumi lifts his gaze back up to Hanamaki, where he’s met with a wide grin. He resists the urge to swear, instead flatly saying, “Is it now.”

“Yeah, and one of the claw machines is acting up, too.”

Iwaizumi runs a hand over his face and groans before saying, “I’ll send Matsukawa over to you to fix the cotton candy machine, and I’ll deal with the claw machine after I’ve done the checklist.”

“Knew I could count on you, Boss,” Hanamaki says, then he gives a mock salute and spins on his heels, starting towards the door. That is, until he freezes and adds, “You still haven’t fixed that hole in your wall?”

“Why would I fix it when I know you’ll just keep throwing the door open and make a new one?”

There’s a pause, and then Hanamaki says, “I’ll bring you a coffee later to make up for it.”

Hanamaki does bring him coffee later. He brings it when Iwaizumi’s standing in front of the gate, about to open the park despite being only a third of the way through his checklist, and the bitter heat of it eases some of the tension from his shoulders.

It’s a nice day now that it’s, what Iwaizumi considers to be, morning, with the sun a decent height in the sky, making the air warm, and just enough wind for a cooling breeze every now and then, so Iwaizumi decides to go over his checklist by the gates instead of in his office and soak up some sunlight.

He glances up every so often, just to make sure the gates haven’t slammed shut on a child or anything - you never know with this place - and that’s when he sees  _ him _ .

A man, around Iwaizumi’s age, walks through the entrance holding the hand of an older-looking kid, and Iwaizumi’s first reaction is “Holy shit,” quickly followed by “Fuck you.”

They’re a handsome man, no doubt, but it’s eight in the morning and he looks way too put together to have gotten up at a reasonable hour; Iwaizumi knows for a fact that he looks like one of the dead returned to life, as Kyoutani had no qualms with telling him so earlier, and if he can’t pretty himself up before leaving the house when he wakes up at five then this man clearly must never sleep.

He stares too long. The man looks around the park and sees him, or at least looks in his direction, and Iwaizumi quickly ducks his head back to his list.

Iwaizumi feels warm with embarrassment, or is it from the coffee? Probably both.

However, having finished off his coffee, Iwaizumi doesn’t have the time, or a reason, to stand around anymore, and he  _ really _ doesn’t have the time to feel embarrassed.

He moves further into the park, checking this and that, here and there, making sure that everything is in working condition. Surprisingly, most things are functional, and he’s just about finished his rounds when his name is called over the radio.

“Iwaizumi, claw machine three’s eating quarters.”

Right, the claw machine. Hanamaki told him one of them was acting up.

Taking the radio from his belt, Iwaizumi presses the button and says, “On my way, Watari.”

It’s not more than two minutes later that Iwaizumi reaches the arcade, making his way to the claw machines where he can see Watari talking to a man; he looks vaguely familiar, but his back is almost completely turned to Iwaizumi.

Getting closer, Iwaizumi can hear Watari saying, “Are you sure? We’d be more than happy to compensate for the trouble.”

“It’s alright, it’s just a few quarters,” the man replies, waving Watari off with a light laugh.

Iwaizumi stops a few feet away when Watari excuses himself from his conversation with the man and strides towards him, saying, “Glad you’re here, Iwaizumi, it’s just machine three that’s throwing a tantrum.”

The man follows Watari and turns, promptly locking eyes with Iwaizumi, and, now seeing his face, Iwaizumi recognizes him as the too-handsome guy from earlier; Iwaizumi’s face feels warm again, but this time he doesn’t have any coffee to blame for the sensation.

“It’s eating quarters again, right?” Iwaizumi asks, pointedly looking down and away as he pulls his keyring off his belt to unlock the panel around the side of the machine.

“Yeah, these people here tried about six times to- Oh no, can I leave you here to deal with this, Iwaizumi? There’s a kid climbing the skee-ball.”

Iwaizumi lowers himself to the floor as he replies, “I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your work, Watari.”

With a quick nod, Watari dashes away, shouting, “Hey, get off of that! This is an arcade, not a jungle gym!”

Pulling the panel open, Iwaizumi starts examining the wires, quickly finding the problem, and then proceeds to quickly fix the problem. He also decides to double check and make sure everything else is in proper working order, since he’s here.

He’s about half finished with his inspection when Mr. Perfect strikes up a conversation with him.

“Maintenance, huh? I thought they kept you all locked in a basement or something, you never see them out and about unless something breaks.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t look away from his hands as he counters, “Something  _ did _ break, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to fix it right now, so.”

Mr. Perfect hums before saying, “Yes, I do have eyes. And while we’re on the subject, I must say I’m surprised that you haven’t looked at me once during this conversation; given how you were staring at me back by the entrance I would have thought you’d be all too eager to take a closer look.”

Slamming the panel shut, Iwaizumi locks it again before standing up and turning to face Mr. Perfect, who is annoyingly - handsomely - smirking. He wills away the blush this time, scowling instead as he says, “Look, I’ve got a lot to do today, so how about you tell me how many quarters you spent, I’ll refund you, and then I can get on with my job.”

“You really don’t have to worry about that,” Mr. Perfect tries to protest, but Iwaizumi’s already opening the hatch on the front of the claw machine and fishing out quarters.

“Don’t be stupid. You paid for a go on the machine and didn’t get it, it’d be wrong if I didn’t insist on reimbursing you,” Iwaizumi says as he counts the change in his hand. “Watari said it was six, is that right?”

Mr. Perfect sounds dazed as he answers, “Yeah,” and when Iwaizumi looks up at him, holding out his hand with the quarters, he looks kind of dazed, too; his eyes are wide, surprised - pretty - and his lips are slightly parted. That is, until they pull up at one of the corners, his head tilts to the side and his eyes crinkle softly as he teases, “Oh my, aren’t you a noble maintenance guy.”

When he reaches out and takes the quarters, Iwaizumi can’t help but give a smug grin as he says, “Manager, actually.”

“Ah, forgive me.” Mr. Perfect actually fucking bats his eyes at Iwaizumi, but it’s over as soon as it began. The next thing Iwaizumi knows, Mr. Perfect’s excusing himself with a quick, “I’ll let you get back to work, now,” walking towards a kid playing one of the arcade games - the same kid he came in with - and disappearing back into the crowd of people.

Iwaizumi stands in the arcade for a minute, processing the encounter, before coming to the conclusion that, yes, Mr. Perfect was flirting with him. But he doesn’t have time to dwell on that as his radio crackles to life, informing him that the carousel’s broken down.

He heaves a sigh before answering, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

It doesn’t matter if Mr. Perfect was flirting, anyway. It was one conversation, a chance encounter, not to be repeated. At least he got to see his eyes up close, though; they really were pretty.

Fixing the carousel is a great distraction, or rather, it keeps him from being distracted, specifically by thinking about Mr. Perfect. Although, as soon as the triumphant music of the carousel blares from the speakers he’s right back to where he was before he’d spent over an hour crouched in the dirt.

He solves this problem by looking at his checklist again, seeing that it’s almost done, and deciding to try and knock out everything that’s left before he’s inevitably called to fix something else.

It’s just as he’s on his way to his office after checking the tilt-a-whirl that his radio beckons his attention once again.

“Can I get maintenance at the shooting gallery?”

Iwaizumi debates answering; he feels absolutely disgusting and would at least like to wash the dirt that he  _ knows _ must be present off his face, and maybe grab another coffee. But when Matsukawa’s voice calls out, asking him to take it, he resigns himself to feeling gross for another half hour.

He arrives to find Kyoutani glaring at none other than Mr. Perfect himself, who isn’t even acknowledging Kyoutani, instead staring longingly at one of the alien plushie prizes sitting on a shelf behind him.

Ignoring Mr. Perfect, Iwaizumi approaches Kyoutani and asks, “What’s the problem?”

“Everything’s broken,” is the mumbled reply.

Iwaizumi arches an eyebrow. “Everything?”

“Yeah.”

“How is everything broken? Are you trying to say it all broke at once?”

Kyoutani looks at the ground as he answers, “No, I just didn’t say anything until now; they’ve been breaking all day.”

Running a hand over his face, Iwaizumi groans before asking, “Why didn’t you call it in until now? It’s actually Matsukawa’s job to fix things, you know.”

Instead of answering, Kyoutani simply shrugs.

Iwaizumi sighs and says, “Nevermind, I’ll just fix the damn things.”

“And how long do you think that’ll take, exactly?” A voice asks, drawing Iwaizumi’s attention; it’s Mr. Perfect, though he isn’t looking at Iwaizumi, his eyes are still fixed on the stupid alien plushie.

“Uh, not too long,” Iwaizumi replies, taking the toy gun that Kyoutani’s holding out to him and starting to examine it.

“Oh good, because my nephew here really wants to try for one of those plushies!”

Mr. Perfect’s nephew immediately speaks up, saying, “No, I don’t. I wanna go ride the rollercoaster.”

“Takeru,” Mr. Perfect starts, turning to face his nephew and lowering his voice - though Iwaizumi can still hear him - before he continues, “don’t embarrass me in front of the cute guy, okay? Also, you know I’m no good at carnival games.”

Iwaizumi can’t help but grin as Mr. Perfect’s nephew - Takeru, right? - groans and says, “Alright, fine, I’ll win your stupid alien toy.” He likes this kid, although Iwaizumi thinks he might like the scandalized expression on Mr. Perfect’s face more.

“If you’re ready to take a shot at it now, this one’s good to go,” Iwaizumi says, holding out the toy gun, and when Takeru takes it, he crouches down slightly and stage whispers, “Friendly advice, be really careful with the trigger; they’re sensitive to throw people off.”

Mr. Perfect pays Kyoutani as Takeru takes aim, meanwhile Iwaizumi moves on to fix the next gun.

Practically all of them are easy fixes, little more than jammed triggers, but that’s not to say Iwaizumi doesn’t take his time with them; he can’t help glancing up at Mr. Perfect, seeing the way he smiles, encouraging Takeru to try again when he doesn’t hit enough targets for a prize, and the way his eyes shine with excitement. It’s a captivating sight, to say the least.

“You know,” Mr. Perfect starts, sidling up next to Iwaizumi, “I don’t get you.”

Iwaizumi huffs a laugh. “Who said you were supposed to? We’re strangers, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I have, and it really is a shame that we aren’t better acquainted, however my point is that usually I can get a read on people pretty quickly, but I’m at a loss with you.”

“Yeah?”

Mr. Perfect groans, “Not this again. It’s considered rude to not look at the person you’re talking to, you know. Your conversation skills truly are horrible.”

Setting the toy gun in his hands down on the counter, Iwaizumi lifts his gaze to meet Mr. Perfect’s, who then nods.

“Better. Now, as I was saying, you confuse me; you stare and stare and stare whenever I’m around yet make no attempt to interact. Though I can’t say I mind too much; I’m not averse to making the first move, but I’m getting mixed signals, here.”

Iwaizumi looks back down at the counter and calmly replies, “What do you want me to say, that I think you’re attractive? Fine. I think you’re attractive.”

“That’s great and all but not exactly new information; you aren’t subtle.” When Iwaizumi doesn’t respond, Mr. Perfect sighs and says in a much different, much softer, tone of voice, “What I’d really like to know is your name.”

It’s at that moment the little bell goes off and Iwaizumi lifts his gaze to see Kyoutani handing Takeru a small stuffed hedgehog, barely bigger than his hand, which he promptly hands to Mr. Perfect.

“I’m sorry it’s not an alien but can we  _ please _ ride the rollercoaster now?” Takeru asks.

Mr. Perfect hums for a moment before saying, “I need to name it, first.” He holds the hedgehog up to his lips in faux thought for a moment, and then his eyes dart to Iwaizumi, looking at him from under his eyelashes as he asks, “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

Iwaizumi considers the man in front of him - long legs, sharp features, hair that looks as if it’d be soft to the touch - and decides that, yes, he wants to see where this goes, so he meets Mr. Perfect’s gaze head on and says, “Iwaizumi.”

“Iwaizumi,” Mr. Perfect repeats, a knowing smile creasing his lips. “I definitely like it, but I think I’ll call him Iwa-chan, for short.”

The moment is broken when Takeru starts pulling on Mr. Perfect’s sleeve, groaning, “Come  _ on _ , the longer we wait, the longer the line will be!”

Mr. Perfect lets Takeru pull him away from the shooting gallery, though he glances back over his shoulder at Iwaizumi and fucking winks as he calls, “See you around!”

Iwaizumi finishes fixing the guns, all the while ignoring the questioning glare Kyoutani is giving him, and then, as if on cue, his radio crackles and a somewhat staticky voice says, “We need maintenance at the rollercoaster.”

He’s just about to respond when Matsukawa’s voice drifts through the radio; “Be right with you, Yahaba.”

Deciding that Matsukawa has it covered, Iwaizumi sets off towards his office again. Upon entering, he walks straight past his desk covered in paperwork to the bathroom, determined to wash the sweat and dirt off his face before he does anything else.

Once he’s finished washing his face, Iwaizumi sits at his desk, though he doesn’t get the chance to even think about doing any paperwork as Hanamaki throws the door open.

“Hey,” he greets, making his way to stand in front of Iwaizumi’s desk before holding out a styrofoam cup. “Coffee?”

Iwaizumi stares at it for a moment, then flicks his eyes up to meet Hanamaki’s as he asks, “What broke this time?”

“Why does something have to be broken? Can’t I just come in here to bring you coffee and have a nice chat? Honestly, Iwaizumi, what do you-”

With a groan, Iwaizumi cuts him off and says, “Yeah, yeah, save it. Now, are you going to tell me what’s broken so I can come fix it or not?”

“Why must you always spoil my fun?” Hanamaki mock whines, and then he adds, “Fine, it’s the ferris wheel. And you might want to hurry, Kindaichi’s panicking.”

Standing, Iwaizumi teases, “Was that so hard?”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes.

He’s about to walk out when Hanamaki asks, “So do you not want your coffee, then? Because I can just give it to Isse-” He cuts off when Iwaizumi grabs the cup from his hand and starts for the door again.

Iwaizumi hurries to the ferris wheel, because if he’s learned anything while working at this godforsaken place it’s that a panicked Kindaichi is  _ not _ good. And sure enough, when he gets there, he can see the tension in Kindaichi’s shoulders.

As soon as Kindaichi spots him, he rushes over and starts talking, not that Iwaizumi can understand him since he’s speaking so fast.

“Okay, calm down,” Iwaizumi says, resting a hand on Kindaichi’s arm. “I’ll handle it, you just go sit down, alright?”

Kindaichi visibly relaxes, nodding before he walks towards a bench.

Iwaizumi doesn’t waste any time, immediately heading to the ferris wheel’s mechanisms and examining them. He’s spent enough time figuring out how it all works that he can find the problem fast enough, but actually fixing it isn’t so easy.

It’s more complex than a claw machine or toy gun, that’s for sure, and it’s gonna take more than ten minutes to fix, but he manages it, in the end.

The ferris wheel starts up again, and when the people who were stuck start stepping off, Iwaizumi makes sure to apologize for the inconvenience and give each of them coupons for free cotton candy.

The final carriage comes to a stop, and Iwaizumi’s just about to start apologizing when he recognizes the person who steps out.

In sheer exasperation, Iwaizumi asks, “Are you cursed or something?”

Mr. Perfect laughs, “Only with good looks.”

Iwaizumi schools his expression into something neutral as Mr. Perfect walks towards him, with Takeru in tow, and says, “You sure about that? Everywhere you go, something breaks.”

With a shrug, Mr. Perfect replies, “Maybe it’s just your park that’s faulty.”

That’s definitely true, but Iwaizumi refuses to admit it, so he changes the topic, apologizing for the ferris wheel breaking down and offering them a coupon for free cotton candy.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Mr. Perfect pouts. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you weren’t happy to see me.”

“It’s protocol,” Iwaizumi says plainly. “Do you want the coupon or not?”

Mr. Perfect sighs before taking the coupon, which he immediately passes to Takeru, saying, “Go get some cotton candy, okay?”

Takeru rolls his eyes but takes the coupon and heads off, anyway, leaving Mr. Perfect and Iwaizumi alone together, properly, for the first time.

“So, Iwaizumi,” Mr. Perfect starts, “that  _ is _ your name, right?”

Putting his hands in his pockets, Iwaizumi nods and confirms, “Yeah, it is. Don’t suppose you’d like to tell me yours?”

Mr. Perfect hums, holding the little hedgehog up to his lips again before he lowers it, revealing a smirk, and says, “Nope.”

Iwaizumi blinks, dazed, and he barely has time to come back to himself before Mr. Perfect’s talking again.

“Well, I’d like to, but I’m enjoying this anonymity too much to give it up just like that.” He chuckles before adding, “I bet you’ve got a cute nickname for me in your head, like something out of a cheesy romance movie.”

Finding his words again, Iwaizumi says, “Aren’t you the one who was complaining about mixed signals earlier?”

Mr. Perfect’s face softens, and he looks away as he quietly replies, “Call me a hypocrite, I guess.”

The open expression catches Iwaizumi off guard; it seems more genuine than anything else he’s seen of him, and it gives off the impression that there’s more to Mr. Perfect than sly eyes and sharp smiles.

He liked the sly eyes and sharp smiles well enough, but it was nothing more than attraction, it couldn’t really go anywhere. This, however, he wants to explore. He wants to see more of the doe eyes and soft smiles. He wants to see where this could go.

“Tell you what,” Iwaizumi begins, “if you want, I can put my number in your phone and you can tell me your name whenever you want. No pressure, of course, if you’d rather not.”

Mr. Perfect stares at him for a moment before a smile spreads across his face and he says, “Yeah, let’s do that.” Then he’s pulling out his phone and handing it to Iwaizumi, who quickly saves his number into Mr. Perfect’s contacts and hands it back.

They look at each other for a long moment. A slight breeze ruffles Mr. Perfect’s hair, blowing it across his bright brown eyes that rest above cheeks dotted with small freckles and a warm smile. He looks soft, like cotton candy.

“Cotton candy machine’s broken,” Takeru says, suddenly appearing beside Mr. Perfect, startling both him and Iwaizumi.

With an awkward chuckle, Iwaizumi says, “Guess I’d better go fix that.” He gives Mr. Perfect one last glance and walks away.

Iwaizumi’s only just reached the cart when his phone buzzes in his pocket, and, taking it out, he sees a text from an unknown number that simply says, “Oikawa Tooru.”


End file.
